Poor Dad

I know that I tend to mention Mom in a lot of my posts, especially lately. That's because she actually READS this blog! Hey, it's what Moms do. They support their children's lame creative endeavors. She even saved a lot of those early crafts. They replaced pictures of my brother in the memory box, which is my explanation for why we only have three pictures of him. Well, he was a second child after all.

:P

About my Dad. He did contribute to my childhood, but I don't know that he actually reads this stuff. I'll tell you about him though. He's a writer. He doesn't admit it, but he is. I remember reading some stuff he wrote when I was little. One story was about the brutal murder of a State Trooper. That one still haunts me, but not as much as the one story he wrote about Biker Boy, my brother.

That one haunts me for a different reason. Because I am a parent now, and remembering that story and the raw emotion contained within just makes me shudder. Through my eyes as a five year old there was nothing impressive about biker boy when he came home (as evidenced by the fact that I remember little about him until he was about 18 months old!). But he had some eventful early months and I know from reading that story that my parents lived those months with their hearts in their throats and their stomachs in knots. And I know this because it's how I would feel now if it were my kids.

Dad is also a photographer. Always has been. He has a unique way of seeing the world. I swear, even without a viewfinder to look through, that's what he sees. Composition, color, light, shadows, Photoshop. It's what he lives for. It's who he is!

I get my creative instincts from him. I love photography too. I enjoy writing. And I played trumpet in band in High School. Just like Dad.

Mom is a reader like me, and she taught me sew. And crochet. And cross-stitch. And how to cook.

And now you know all about my Dad, and what he is like (and a little more about my Mom).

P.S. Hi Mom! :)

Coffee Talk

When I was growing up my parents did not drink coffee. My grandparents did. They drank it black.

I did not drink coffee. Even when Starbucks came to town I only drank hot chocolates and the odd cappuchino. Not really coffee. And never black!

And sometime after Small Fry was born my Mom went over to the dark side and started drinking coffee. I blame the pod machine that made custom coffee stocked in every flavor imaginable with unlimited cream and sugar supplied for free in her office at the time. French vanilla coffee with french vanilla creamer. Oh, it was good. And when I ended up at the office with her she introduced me to the beloved, wondreous coffee maker. Never mind that I was pregnant with Tater Tot at the time. I checked with the OB/GYN and one or two cups of coffee a day was approved and so it began. My on-again, off-again affair with coffee. French Roast with Irish Cream flavored creamer and three sugars. So what if it was more cream and sugar than cream? I needed the dairy - pregnant remember?

But then I left that office for another job. A job that sadly did not have a personal cup of coffee machine brewer. But there was a Starbucks next door. So the daily coffee habit became a twice monthly iced coffee habit. Starbucks is expensive!

And then I left that job and became a Stay-At-Home-Mom (SAHM) without a coffee maker. So the coffee habit died.

And then....my mother the dealer :) made coffee last Thanksgiving while we were staying at her house. Sweet mom made a cup the way she likes it for my sweet SSCB (Super Sonic Cheeseburger).

Two months later I had to go to Wal-Mart and buy a coffeemaker, French Vanilla Folgers and creamer because my husband was craving coffee. It is now a daily addiction for both of us. Sad. But, I still won't drink it black!

Now? McDonald's is my new dealer. Their vanilla iced coffee? Oh, it's GOOOOOOOOOOODDDDD! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

I try to make it at home and can only create a pale washed out version that passes for iced coffee but it lacks the richness of the McDonald's version.

The point of this post? Thanking Mom for getting me addicted. Thanking Mom for getting SSCB addicted. And forcing me to buy a coffee machine. The first hit's always free, right?

And you want to know what the real injustice here is? Mom quit coffee! Can you believe it? Now she's pushing Chai tea! Oh, the humanity. Thankfully I can brew the tea in my coffeemaker. Mmmmmmmmmm, chai tea. With milk and sugar.

But I'll wax nostalgic on the chai some other time!!

:)

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